


with a whimper

by see_addy_write



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nogitsune Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 18:05:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1437643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/see_addy_write/pseuds/see_addy_write
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Destroying the nogitsune has some unforeseen side effects for Stiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	with a whimper

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a quick drabble I wrote for a meme on my Scott RP blog - there are a few more I have to write, so I'll probably be posting them here, all in one place. I hope you enjoy!

The Stilinski house was dark when Scott lets himself in with the key from under the mat — he hadn’t knocked at the door in near ten years — and the silence was stifling. Scott bit down on his lower lip as he looked around, worried. Stiles hadn’t been at school that day, but the other boy usually spent sick days downstairs on the couch, watching bad TV and whining to anyone who would listen. It wasn’t like him to spend the day in bed, not unless something was really wrong.

Scott climbed the stairs and knocked at Stiles’ bedroom door, startling when something hard hit it from the other side. “Stop fuckin’ pounding!” Stiles’ voice hissed. Scott took the words as permission to enter and moved into the room. It was darker, even, than the rest of the house – the blinds were drawn and a blanket was tossed haphazardly over the curtain rod, like the blinds hadn’t been enough to block out the sun.

“Sorry,” Scott said as quietly as he could while still being sure Stiles would hear – already realizing what was wrong. Ever since the nogitsune had duplicated his body and nearly killed him, Stiles had been suffering from debilitating headaches on a semi-regular basis. He’d played it off as nothing at first, but Scott had caught him hiding in the men’s room the week before, pale and shaking from pain, and forced the truth out of him.

“It’s just headaches,” Stiles muttered under his breath. “Nothing supernatural. It’s not still in there, or anything.” He was sitting on the toilet, head in his hands and gaze focused resolutely on the dirty white tile. “After nightmares, usually. Deaton says it’s normal, so don’t start freaking out.”

Scott had started freaking out, but he figured Stiles hadn’t really expected the warning to stick. Deaton didn’t always know everything, after all – but as time went on and nothing unusual happened, Scott had been forced to accept that the headaches were normal – and that they might never fully disappear.

Scott frowned and crossed the room to the bed, wincing when his footsteps seemed to echo in the quiet room. Carefully, he slid into the bed behind his friend, trying not to jostle him. “Another headache, huh?”

Stiles groaned an affirmative, stirring under the blankets he had over his head. “’s bad,” he mumbled, otherwise unmoving. The fact that he didn’t so much as crack a crude joke at Scott climbing in bed with him was a bad sign.

Without speaking, Scott slid a hand over Stiles’ shoulders to rest it on the back of his neck. As soon as bare skin hit bare skin, Scott tensed and focused on drawing away some of Stiles’ headache. The veins in his hands darkened as he tried to help, the pain forcing his eyes closed for a long moment.

“Better?” he whispered when he couldn’t take anymore, craning his neck to look at Stiles’ face.

Instead of an answer, Stiles reached back and pushed Scott’s hand away from his neck. “You shouldn’t do that,” he said, voice steadier than it had been just moments before. “It hurts you.”

Scott raised an eyebrow, surprised and confused by the sudden turn in conversation. “It hurts you,” he shot back. “Why shouldn’t I help if I can? It’s not like it’ll kill me, Stiles.”

There was a harsh intake of breath, and finally – too late – Scott realized what Stiles was thinking of. The night the nogitsune stabbed him flashed through Scott’s mind – the flash of the katana, the burning in his side and the feel of Stiles’ clammy hands on his face as all the pain he’d taken that day was taken to fill the nogitsune’s unquenchable thirst for it.

“Stiles.” Scott’s voice wobbled a little. “You’re not a nogitsune. And I’m not someone who can watch his best friend suffer when I can do something about it.” He caught Stiles’ hand and squeezed his fingers, smiling even though Stiles was still facing the wall.

There was a long moment of silence, then – finally – the tenseness seeped from Stiles’ muscles and he melted back into Scott’s chest. “Thanks,” he murmured, turning his head just enough that Scott could see his fleeting smile. “Stay?” The question came as his amber colored eyes fluttered shut, and Scott didn’t even think of refusing.

“Always,” he promised, pulling the blankets back up around them.


End file.
